August Avenging Arlene: A Xara Smith Mystery

By Bill McGrath

David Brand has murdered his wife and everybody knows he did it. He has a pretty good alibi though; at the time of the murder he was with Xara Smith! Xara must find out not who done it, rather how this one suspect managed to do it while he was with her. Xara and Jill work together on this one and even Jana gets a chance to go under cover. Texas female detective. The Xara Smith Mystery Series by Bill McGrath

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bill McGrath
• Release date: Jan 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465904775

Bill McGrath

Bill McGrath has lived in the north Texas since 1989. He is married and has raised three daughters and a son. He has had several careers including; Computer Programmer, Cab Driver, Factory Worker, Volunteer Coordinator, and Customer Service Representative. Now that you have bought this book he will also claim that he is an Author.

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August Avenging Arlene

A Xara Smith Mystery by Bill McGrath

Copyright 2012 Bill McGrath

Smashwords Edition

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All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

Other Books by Bill McGrath

Available at on Smashwords:

From The Xara Smith Mysteries Series:

January Juggling The Jentons

February At Feldman's On Fifth

March Of The Mustangs

April At The Antique Alley

May Might Mean Murder

June Jumping The Jaguar

July Jill's Justice

August Avenging Arlene

September Surgeon Shamed

October Octagon Occult

November Naughty Nurse

December Deadly Dolls

Also by Bill McGrath:

Virika - Maiden

Bill McGrath Web Site:

WWW.WIX.COM/WGJM53/BILLMCGRATH

To contact author please send email to [e-mail]

CHAPTER-01.

My first impression of David Brand was that he could stand to lose a few pounds. It is not like he was grossly obese or anything. It is that he would have been a much more attractive older man if he weren’t quite so paunchy. I would have guessed his age at somewhere beyond seventy due mostly to the thick shock of really white hair sprouting uncombed from his ruddy scalp. He had arrived at my place of business and disturbed me just like so many other potential clients have always done. I have a little sign on the door that says Open. Please come in, but the building looks much more like a house than an office, so most folks do as Mr. Brand did, and ring the doorbell.

My name is Xara Smith, and I am the owner, and principle investigator of Xara Smith Discrete Investigations. My house/office is on the frontage road that runs along Highway 183, also known as The Airport Freeway, in Irving, Texas. Since I was currently between cases, I had been sitting at my desk playing Spider Solitaire on my clunky old computer when David had rung the bell. Not wanting a client to see me so engaged, yet also not wishing to lose the game, I had simply minimized it before I answered the door allowing Mr. Brand inside. We introduced ourselves and shook hands with his grip being surprisingly strong for one of his apparent age.

It was only about nine-thirty in the morning, so I offered my potential new client a cup of coffee, which he readily accepted. That meant I had to leave him alone in the large front room I use as an office and go into the kitchen where I then filled two mugs with hot caffeine laced liquid. Being ever the gracious hostess, I placed the mugs on a tray and added spoons, sugar bowl, and cream canister. I looked briefly to see if I had any cookies to add to the tray but found the cupboard quite bare and made a mental note to get by a grocery store soon.

Mr. Brand had already seated himself in the only guest chair in the front room, which was directly across from my desk. I placed the tray in the center of my desk and lowered my bulk into my old but comfortable office chair. As I rolled myself closer to the desk the wheels of my chair made their customary screech, which I silently vowed I would attend to as soon as this meeting was over. The screech could be dealt with by a short spray of WD-40 oil, but that would mean getting the spray can out of my toolbox, and that would entail a search for my toolbox, and that would probably lead to a trip down the rickety stairs into my basement, and I just didn’t want to think about that, so, even though I vowed to take care of the screech as soon as this meeting was done, the screech would probably be with me for the next year or so, as it has been for the past several months.

People arrive at my place of business because there is something going on in their life, that makes them believe that they need to hire a private investigator. Therefore, most potential clients are quite nervous for this first meeting. They sit there fidgeting and stuttering until I ask just the right question, and then they spill out their story quickly, and in a very disorganized manner. Mr. Brand, though, was not an average potential client.

He appeared calm and collected. He sat up straight. His look, which should have been worrisome, was more whimsical. His half-hidden smile made me think he had just gotten away with something. Perhaps he had just remembered a long-forgotten dirty joke. Perhaps he had driven way above the speed limit and was saying a silent Thank You to his higher power for delivering him to my office un-ticketed. Perhaps he had just sawed his business partner in half and the body parts were currently in the trunk of his car.

The interview was cumbersome because his answers were short. He never did spout out his story, which I kept probing to find. At the end of the interview many things had become clear. I am thirty-one years old. David was seventy-one. I am lesbian with a girlfriend I have just three and a half months history with. David had been married for twenty-five of the last fifty years but admitted he was currently on his fifth wife. I am six-feet, three-inches tall. David is five nine. I never did any college. David had an engineering degree and had long since retired from a career filled with job-hopping using mechanical skills more than engineering. I take cream in my coffee. David drinks his black and sweet.

I was growing weary of our sparring, but without another case to currently work on, I was without income, so I let it go a little while longer.

What is it, specifically, that I can do for you, Mr. Brand? I asked.

He answered, Well, first of all, please call me David. Then he added I feel like I am in danger, so I want you to protect me. How much does it cost for something like that?

I can give you personal protection myself for four hundred dollars a day plus expenses. Or, if you prefer, I would be happy to recommend a bodyguard service that I work with often. They are very good, and it will only cost you about half as much. What days do you need a guard for?

Oh, just today, he told me.

What’s going on Mr. Brand, er, David? Why do you think you are in danger today? Why do you need protection? I continued.

Well, he said, and he sort of leaned back in his chair and smiled when he said this when you get to be my age, you just get feelings. Some you know you can handle yourself. Some you know you can’t. I woke up this morning knowing I was in danger, so I flipped through the Yellow Pages, picked you out, and here I am.

So just a feeling? I asked, No threats, no notes, nothing tangible?

Nope. A one-word answer, that really helps.

What about Mrs. Brand? Does she also need protection?

Oh no! he replied, She will be just fine. She is at work today.

I quickly stuck in What type of work does she do?

Look, he said how about if I give you a thousand dollars cash to watch over me just for today? You let me hang out with you as you go about your regular business. I get protected. You make a grand. We end the day with a nice dinner together in the restaurant of your choice. You do a good deed by indulging the fears of a doddering old man.

A thousand dollars would pay my monthly mortgage, plus a month on my health insurance, plus my current electric bill. One day’s work babysitting this old coot and I could get right back to enjoying my current state of unemployment. Even though it would not be necessary, I went through the motion of filling out a contract with David Brand, and he handed me ten crisp new hundred-dollar bills. I put the fresh thousand bucks in an envelope, made a really brief note on the outside, and stashed it in my safe.

I realized later that, had circumstances been different, it would have been a really nice third or fourth date. He started by taking me out to a greasy spoon in Dallas for a quick breakfast of eggs and pancakes. We then spent an hour in a huge used bookstore where he picked out a dozen titles that we stashed in the trunk of my five year-old Taurus. Next on our unwritten agenda was a short ride over to Fort Worth, Texas for a trip through a world-class zoo. Over in Arlington, the Texas Rangers were hosting the Chicago White Sox, so we had nine innings of fun in the sun watching the Rangers lose yet another game while we stuffed ourselves with hotdogs and nachos. August in Texas is not the best time to sit in the stands all afternoon, but even Mother Nature cooperated by giving us a welcome cloud cover for the entire game without a single drop of rain to spoil it. When the game ended, evening had not yet settled in and we were still too full to even consider dinner yet, so we ended up sitting through a cheesy horror movie in 3-D. We ended the day at my favorite restaurant, Feldman’s On Fifth, where we gobbled down chicken-fried steak followed by their world-famous cheesecake. I am sure that had I been hetero, and had he been thirty years younger, the evening would have ended in my hot tub.

As it was, though, we arrived back at my house/office well after dark around 8:30 P.M. He came inside just long enough to meet my business partner, Jill, he gave me a grandfatherly peck on the cheek, he specifically asked me what time it was, he got into his own car, and he drove away. He had put everything on his credit card, so I didn’t even have any paperwork to do for this simple case. My day of baby sitting was done.

I expected that was the last I would see of the comical little Mr. Brand. Boy was I wrong.

My partner Jill and I had a lot to talk about concerning several different matters. The first of which had to do with my health. This was the middle of August, and near the end of June I was in a terrible car crash and explosion that had nearly killed me. I had suffered several broken bones during the tragedy, and the casts had just recently come off. I had perhaps overdone it with my long day with Mr. Brand and my old body was aching a bit, so Jill and I went out to my back porch where I have a large, still new, hot tub.

Together Jill and I made a pile of clothing on the porch floor and dipped ourselves into the nice warm water. Jill worked the controls until the air jets were all churning up the water, and in the frothy bubbles she then told me about her day.

Jill had not been as lucky today as I had. She had not been taken around the metropolis on someone else' credit card. She had, in fact, spent the entire day attending a conference given by some experts on the subject of collecting and preserving crime scene evidence. Jill, whom is now my partner and therefore an investigator for my agency, had just recently received her private detectives license, and part of the licensing process requires a certain number of appropriate educational credits.

Jill explained it all like it had been a big waste of her time, but by the way she was describing the processes and procedures, it sounded as if she had really enjoyed the presentation.

An hour of warm swirling water and three aspirins later I felt relaxed enough to go to bed and get some much needed rest.

CHAPTER-02.

RINGGGGGGGGG! I hate it when the day starts with the cell-phone chirping before the alarm clock gets its turn.

Hello, I mumbled.

The person on the phone answered Can you come down to the station, Xara?

It was my good friend Eric Samuels. Samuels is a cop in Dallas. I have known him almost a year now, and we have worked together a couple of times. I consider him one of my best friends, and he considers me a pain-in-the-ass private detective. Still, I know he respects me. He is a chief-investigator for the Dallas PD, currently assigned to the homicide division.

What’s going on? I asked.

Do you know a David Brand? he asked rather directly.

Yes, I stammered. I started telling him about the previous day but he cut me off in mid sentence.

We have him in custody. Get out of bed, jump in the shower. Drink half a cup of coffee, and be in my office in sixty minutes, was his command.

He hung up before I had a chance to argue. I did pretty much as he had suggested. I did hop into the shower and after cleaning myself and drying off, I pulled on my favorite work outfit which is, of course, a pair of jeans and an appropriate top. Had this been a cooler month the top would have been a turtleneck, but because this was August in Texas I pulled on a light t-shirt instead. As usual, I was up before Jill so there was no coffee made and rather than making a pot, I just grabbed a can of Diet Coke from the refrigerator and took it with me for the short trip into Dallas traffic. I did make it to Eric Samuels' office in less than his sixty minute deadline.

The photo, at least this one, was pleasant. In it I could see the pretty woman’s face clearly through the shallow water, but I could not tell that she was dead. She looked rather peacefully asleep. The silver chain about her throat looked like a fine necklace, her head itself blocking view of the heavy weight attached to the chain, which held her head below the water line. Her hair, raven and long,